


That Blessed Arrangement

by Eienvine



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, F/M, Sifki Week 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25930123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eienvine/pseuds/Eienvine
Summary: Loki has always been determined that he won’t become a pawn in his father’s schemes to dominate the business world—in particular, that he won’t let Odin force him into a marriage based more on how two corporations can benefit each other than on how two people feel about each other. But that’s before he learns who it is that Odin is trying to convince him to marry.Here’s an interesting quandary for you: what if you have sworn to defy all your father’s attempts to coordinate a business marriage for you, but the woman he’s chosen for you just happens to be the only woman you’ve ever been able to imagine yourself marrying?
Relationships: Loki/Sif (Marvel)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 54





	1. Day 1: Indulge

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I did name this after the line in the Princess Bride, so I need you to read the title as “That Bwessed Awwangement,” please and thank you.
> 
> Written for Sifki Week 2020, Day 1: Indulge. But honestly, this only very tangentially relates to that prompt. What it does relate to is my current love of watching Asian dramas; in particular, this was inspired by a Taiwanese drama called The Perfect Match (which was kind of meh, but I finished it because let’s be honest, I would watch Chris Wu read the phone book). Anyway that drama, like many others, had a lot to do with an idea that the translators kept rendering as “business marriages”: children of these super rich and powerful business families (chaebols, if they're Korean) being encouraged/forced to choose partners based on their connections and their wealth and on how much benefit they could bring to the family. And I thought that would be a fun environment to do a Sifki story in. I couldn’t think of a better term for it, so I basically just stuck with the phrase “business marriage” in this story.
> 
> This is going to be at least four chapters; the original plan was to post them across four different days of Sifki Week, but honestly this week sort of snuck up on me and I don’t know that I’ll be done in time. So the last few chapters may or may not come after Sifki Week ends.

. . . . . .

“Absolutely not.”

“Loki—”

“Odin,” comes the icy response.

“Indulge me,” Odin presses, ignoring the frosty displeasure in his son’s voice for the moment. “Just stay for dinner. You’re already here, after all.”

“And I wouldn’t have come if I knew what you were about,” Loki says, planting his feet against the floor and sliding his chair away from the table. “I have told you a thousand times, I am not interested in becoming a pawn for you to slide around the board in your attempt to conquer the business world. You’ve got Thor for that. He’s your favorite, after all. And your real son.”

“Loki.” This time Odin sounds pained, and Loki pauses in gathering up his things from the table. Because that pained tone reminds him that Odin _is_ trying. Even someone as little inclined to think well of others as Loki is can’t deny that Odin has been trying hard, in recent years, to make up for the past.

It doesn’t make Loki inclined to go along with this insanity. But it does make him soften his tone a little. “I know you’re just trying to do business the way you’re used to,” he says. “The way your father did business, the way his father did business. But in this day and age, this idea of marrying your children off to form alliances with other giant conglomerates is . . . absolutely medieval. Let us live our own lives. Let us attempt to find happiness.”

“Your mother and I are very happy together,” Odin says defensively.

“I know,” says Loki. “And I also know that you hated each other for the first year of your marriage.”

Odin looks abashed; Loki supposes that he hadn’t expected Frigga to let that little detail slip. But mother and son keep few secrets from each other; Odin might have his favorite child, but so does Frigga.

“I know you feel this way, Loki,” Odin says. “I have heard you, I promise, and I have taken your feelings into account. But I also worry about you. You’re thirty-two years old and you haven’t been on a second date in years. And I’m fairly certain that the only first dates you’ve been on in that time are ones where other people set you up. Don’t you think it’s time you settled down? Started a family? Don’t you want that?”

There is, of course, no way that Loki’s going to answer that honestly—showing vulnerability is not really his thing—so he settles for a careless shrug.

“That’s why I set up this dinner,” Odin goes on.

“Really? Purely for my good? So you’re trying to tell me that you’ve set up this meeting with this woman only because you think she’d make a good choice for me to settle down? She’s not the daughter of one of your fellow captains of industry who happens to be positioned to massively benefit the Asgard Group?”

Again Odin looks abashed, and Loki fights back a pleased smile; it’s nice to have the upper hand with Odin every once in a while. “She is both,” Odin admits. “But I wouldn’t have considered it if not for the fact that I truly think this could be a good match for you.”

“Thank you,” says Loki, all mock solemnity, and Odin catches the mocking edge and frowns a little. “But I don’t share your conviction that there’s happiness to be found in one of your ‘strategic marriages.’ And I think I should take advantage of their tardiness and excuse myself now.”

“Just stay for dinner,” Odin entreats. “That’s all I’m asking. Look, Loki, you know perfectly well that I’m not going to try to twist your arm into marrying someone you don’t want to. Think of this as a blind date: I just want you to spend some time with her, and then see what you think. And anyway, she's—”

“I know what I think,” Loki says. “And the answer is no.” And he stands from his chair.

But he’s delayed too long; now that he’s standing, he can see the maitre d'hotel in the sharp suit leading a pair of guests through the tables toward them. Odin cranes his head to see what Loki’s looking at. “Ah, they’re here,” he says, standing as well. “Now you really must stay, Loki; it’d be terribly rude to leave now. Anyway, as I was going to say before you interrupted, you and Thor know her from school. So I thought you might be more willing to consider her.”

The host steps out of the way, and Loki can finally see the two people he was leading, and his heart sort of sinks and rises at the same time. The man in front, with the salt-and-pepper hair and the closely trimmed beard, looks a little familiar. But the woman behind him, with the bobbed black hair and the stunning silver dress, is as familiar to Loki as the face looking back at him in the mirror.

“Tyr!” Odin greets the man with a cheerful handshake, then turns to his daughter. “And Sif! Don’t you look wonderful? I don’t think I’ve seen you since your high school graduation.”

And Loki sits heavily back down in his chair.

Here’s an interesting quandary for you: what if you have sworn to defy all your father’s attempts to coordinate a business marriage for you, but the woman he’s chosen for you just happens to be the only woman you’ve ever been able to imagine yourself marrying?

. . . . . .

The meal that follows might be the most uncomfortable that Loki has ever experienced.

In truth, neither he nor Sif is required to say much. Tyr asks him a few questions about his work in the legal department at the Asgard Group, and Odin asks Sif a few questions about her work in the acquisitions group at the Vanaheim Corporation, but for the most part the two men just talk to each other, about mergers and stock prices and and golf courses and what their other tycoon friends are up to.

This only serves to fuel Loki’s irritation. If this dinner really is a blind date, then the bulk of the conversation ought to occur between him and Sif. Instead they’re stuck at opposite corners of the table, not even able to converse without having to shout over their fathers, which seems to Loki to be a clear sign that despite Odin’s fine words, this has nothing to do with ‘Loki and Sif meeting just to see if they could see themselves someday getting married.’ Odin isn’t even bothering to encourage conversation between the two would-be spouses, because he considers this a done deal; he clearly has no doubt Loki will agree to the relationship and eventual marriage. And that just makes Loki all the more inclined to refuse it.

But on the other hand . . . Sif.

She has only gotten more beautiful as the years have gone by, which is saying something, because Loki thought she was stunning in high school. She is well-spoken and intelligent, on those few occasions that their fathers deign to include her in the conversation, and she is perfectly well-mannered and poised as she eats her meal. And she keeps catching Loki’s eye across the table and giving him these amused grins, as though to say that she finds their fathers as ridiculous as he does.

And Loki fears that he is in danger of falling as much in love with her as he was in school.

And that’s a problem, for several reasons. It’s a problem because he has sworn to never allow his father to force him into a business marriage. It’s a problem because it took a lot of work and a lot of time for him to get over his massive crush on Sif, and he’s not ready to fall down that rabbit hole again. It’s a problem because he has no idea what’s going through Sif’s mind right now: is she here against her will, just like him? Or is she open to the possibility that this dinner will go well, and a month from now they’ll be announcing their engagement in the society pages? 

Not that this is something he has to worry about; the dinner is _not_ going well, because he is sitting there like a stone statue, with nothing of worth to contribute to the conversation, because Sif is too gorgeous to be believed and the mere sight of her is making him tongue-tied. Plus it’s not like there’s ever a moment for him to get a word in edgewise. 

Blessedly, his phone vibrates as the chef is serving their dessert, and Loki has never been so pleased to see a text from his brother pop up. “Thor wrecked his car,” he announces to the table, reminding himself to sound dismayed, not relieved. “He needs me to come deal with it.”

Odin heaves a great sigh. “Again? Which car?”

Loki shrugs. “Who can keep track?” he asks rhetorically.

Tyr grunts. “I have a nephew like that.”

“And he needs you to deal with it?” Sif asks.

Several very biting and very amusing responses come to mind, but Loki swallows them all and smiles. “As legal counsel for the Asgard Group, my presence at this sort of thing is often useful,” he says. “So sorry to dash off like this.” He nods at each of his dinner companions in turn. “Sif, wonderful to see you again. Mr. Hymirson, you as well. Father.”

And he strides away, in equal parts glad to be free and sorry to be leaving Sif behind.

But he hasn’t left Sif behind entirely, apparently. As he’s waiting for the valet to bring his car around, Loki hears footsteps behind him and turns to see Sif approaching. “That was a weird evening, right?” she asks, making a funny little face that reminds him of high school, and he thinks it makes her look a million times better than that polite smile she was wearing all through the meal.

He manages to unfreeze enough to agree. “Pretty weird.”

She takes a step forward. “Loki—”

They’re interrupted by Loki’s silver Taycan pulling up to the curb and the valet climbing out. Loki looks at the car, then back at Sif. She hesitates a moment, then says, “You want to do brunch tomorrow? Catch up a little? I don’t think I’ve seen you in, what, eight, nine years?”

This sounds like it’ll further Odin’s plotting, which Loki doesn’t like. But he can’t say no to Sif. So they exchange phone numbers and he bids her goodbye and drives away, and it takes the entire drive to the site of Thor’s accident for him to wrestle his confused and conflicted feelings under control.

. . . . . .

The location Sif picks for their brunch surprises Loki, although it shouldn’t. This is Sif, after all, who was the instigator behind his first and only visit to an all-you-can-eat buffet—something he is not inclined to thank her for—and who introduced him to the concept of Taco Tuesday. Her wealth always did sit a little uncomfortably on her shoulders, more than any of the rest of their friends; she always used to wonder what it would be like to be “normal.” So she was always the one to drag them to fast food restaurants and cheap movie theaters and street fairs.

So it shouldn’t surprise him that she’s chosen a casual hipster joint—exposed brick, Edison bulbs, and apparently they didn’t get the memo that serving drinks in mason jars has become a cliche—filled with young people who probably make less money in a year than Loki makes in a month. It’s been a long time since he’s been to a restaurant that doesn’t require a reservation to be made six months in advance (or the Odinson name to be dropped to the host).

Sif is already at a table, and she couldn’t look more different than she did last night, dressed as she is in ripped jeans and a t-shirt. It’s a designer t-shirt, but still, she blends in more with the locals than he does, with the sleeves of his Armani shirt rolled up just so and the top button open in a careful semblance of casualness.

She greets him with a kiss to the cheek—he assumes they can attribute that to her having been overseas for the last eight years, where cheek kisses are more common—and sit down to peruse their menus.

And it’s all quite nice, actually. The restaurant has a decent vegan selection, and the waitress takes their order pretty quickly, and Sif is a charming conversationalist, as she always was. They chat a little about Thor’s accident last night, and then Loki asks one of the milder of the hundreds of questions that have been swirling around in his head since last night: “When did you get back in the country?”

“Last month. I really enjoyed living overseas, but I eventually decided I missed home.”

“You were working for a Vanaheim office over there, right? I thought, when I last talked to you—was that at your graduation party?—that it was supposed to be a two-year thing.”

She gives him a rueful little smile. “It was supposed to be,” she confirms. “But . . . did you hear about my engagement?”

A lifetime of reticence makes it easy for him to keep his face impassive, but he feels a weight on his chest, a reminder of the pain he felt all those years ago when Tyr casually mentioned at Loki’s law school graduation party that Sif had gotten engaged. That had been the moment that he’d realized that he really had to do something about this tragic little crush that had lingered since high school, and he’d set out to do his best to root those feelings out of his chest. It took a while, but it eventually worked.

Mostly.

“Somebody at the same office you were at, right?” he says, as though he doesn’t know the answer perfectly well.

She nods. “Haldor,” she says, and her tone says exactly what she thinks of the man now. “An expat, like me, working for Vanaheim over there.” 

“I never really heard what happened,” he says. “Other than that the wedding got called off.”

Her smile is nearly convincing. “We had it all planned out; we were going to come back home and get married and work together here, and someday we’d run the Vanaheim Corporation together. And then, a month before we were supposed to move home, I found him with another woman.”

Loki winces.

“It gets worse,” she says. “You remember Lorelei Incantare?”

Loki frowns, trying to remember—then stares at her, eyes wide. “Amora’s little sister? From high school?”

She nods. “That’s who I found him with,” she says with a smile that shows too many teeth. “Small world, right? An ocean away, and she’s still ruining lives. Anyway, turned out that Haldor wasn't that good at his job; they just tolerated him because he was the CEO’s future son-in-law. Once we broke up, he was basically invited to resign. He moved home and I haven’t heard from him since.”

“So why . . .”

“I was embarrassed, I guess,” she says. “I couldn’t go home, back to this world, and have every single person I ran into say ‘Hey, didn’t I hear something about you getting married?’ And you know that no matter how much I tried to claim ‘We decided to part ways, it was all very amiable,’ there would be gossip. I didn’t want to deal with it, so I extended my stay over there. And then I realized I really liked it there. I didn’t want to leave. So I kept extending, and extending, and extending . . .”

“Until now.”

“I missed my dad. I missed this city. And I thought I’d better spend more time at our corporate headquarters, if I’m supposed to be running this whole corporation someday.”

“I see,” says Loki, and then hears himself point out, “Apparently your father didn’t wait long before trying to marry you off,” which is really too bad, because he didn’t mean to bring that whole fiasco up.

Sif laughs. “He gave me my space for a long time. But now that I’m home . . .”

They fall silent a long few moments, staring at their plates. And then Sif looks up at him, her expression grave. “You had no idea what that dinner last night was about, did you? You were completely blindsided when we showed up.”

No sense lying if she already knows, so Loki nods. “My father just asked if I wanted to meet him for dinner. Although I should have guessed something was up when he asked me to dress up.”

“Yeah, I got that vibe from you,” she murmurs. And then she just looks at him for a while, while his heart thumps in his chest, because apparently Sif Tyrsdottir still has the power to turn him into a fool.

But he never gets to hear whatever is on her mind, because he suddenly gets a phone call, and when he answers it, the news that greets him drives all other thoughts from his head.

“What is it?” Sif asks when he hangs up.

“Another car accident,” he says.

“Another one?” she says. “Is this your favorite way of getting out of meals with me?”

He does not laugh. “My mother is in the ER,” he says, and all laughter flies from Sif’s face.

“Go,” she says. “I’ll take care of things here.”

He nods and stands from the table—then winces. “I took a cab here,” he remembers. “Thor has my car this morning. Finding one on this road is going to take forever.”

“Then I’ll drive you to the hospital,” Sif volunteers promptly.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Sif says. “You’re my friend. And I’ve always liked your mother. I’d like to make sure she’s all right.”

It’ll be faster than waiting for a cab. “All right,” he says.

And five minutes later, he and Sif are on their way to the hospital.

. . . . . .


	2. Day 3: Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the awesome reception so far, guys! Unless a miracle happens, I almost certainly won't be posting a new chapter tomorrow. But possibly on Thursday? And I've already got one-shots written for Friday and Saturday.

. . . . . .

Loki is a ball of nerves all the way to the hospital, saying little and checking his phone repeatedly for updates, and as worried as Sif is about Frigga, she finds herself smiling a little. Loki has always been particularly close to his mother, and while Sif supposes some people might find that odd for a man his age, she totally gets it. Because Frigga is an absolute delight; Sif couldn’t adore her more if she were a blood relative.

Her own mother has been dead these twenty years, so in junior high and high school, it was Frigga who often stepped into a maternal role in her life: advising her when her period started and taking her shopping for her prom dress and helping her through her first breakup. That’s quite a kindness, Sif thinks, to show a girl whose only connection to you is that she’s friends with your sons. Even after Sif went off to college, and later moved overseas, she and Frigga kept in contact through e-mail and the occasional phone call.

So Sif has always loved Frigga, and she understands why Loki is so devoted to her, and she shares his worry over this car accident. So while she’s not as anxious as he is on the car ride over, she finds herself biting her lip and willing the red lights to change faster.

But it turns out they didn’t need to worry at all, because when they get to the hospital, it’s to learn that Frigga is in no danger whatsoever; she only broke her ankle in the car accident, which isn’t great, but it’s far better than they’d been fearing. Sif makes a mental note to hunt down the nurse or whoever it was that called Loki and inform them that they should be a lot more clear when calling families to give them bad news.

“Mother!” Loki exclaims, bursting into the room. “Are you really all right? We are going to sue the car company. And the driver. And the driver of the other car.”

“We are not going to sue anyone, dearest,” Frigga says firmly. “It was truly an accident—a series of unfortunate events no one could have foreseen or avoided. It could have happened to anyone.”

He frowns. “Mother—”

“Sif!” Frigga exclaims, cutting her son off as Sif peers through the doorway. “What an unexpected delight. What are you doing here?”

“I gave Loki a ride to the hospital. And I wanted to come in and check on you—that nurse was sort of vague and ominous on the phone.”

“How kind of you, dear!” Frigga gestures for Sif to enter the examination room. “I haven’t seen you in person in . . . well, in years. If it means I get to see you, I should come to the ER more often.”

“Not funny,” Loki says tightly.

“Of course, my mistake,” Frigga says with mock gravity, her eyes sparkling with mirth as she looks at Sif. Sif grins.

“Now, everyone was out so late with Thor’s car accident that I never got to hear,” Frigga says. “How was your dinner last night?” She looks expectantly at Loki, and then at Sif. “Did you—”

“Right now we should be focusing on your health,” Loki cuts in, and he won’t quite make eye contact with Sif. “It looks like they wrapped your ankle already. Are they discharging you?”

Frigga lets him change the subject, although her eyes linger on Sif a moment longer. “The doctor still has a few things he wants to check,” she says. “And a great deal of paperwork he needs me to fill out, I’m sure. So I don’t think I’m leaving this spot any time soon.”

“So your ankle is broken?” Sif says. “I’m glad it wasn’t worse, but that can be a tough injury.”

“Yes, I don’t imagine I’ll be very mobile for the next long while,” Frigga sighs. “It could be much worse, though. Really, what I’m worried about is the fundraiser.”

“Ah, yes,” Loki says. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“What fundraiser?” Sif asks.

“I hold a fundraiser each summer,” Frigga explains brightly. “I invite neighbors, friends, Odin’s business associates, the like.”

Ah, thinks Sif, the comically rich, then: people with money to burn. She wonders how successful such endeavors are; in her experience, the rich are often far less charitable than the poor.

“The money goes to help foster children in the city,” Frigga goes on. “To make sure they can afford school supplies and clothes for the upcoming school year. Their foster families often struggle—or in some cases are unwilling—to spend much on that kind of thing.”

“That seems like a very good cause,” Sif says, surprised and touched. “I hope your injury won’t interfere with your planning it.”

“My personal assistant Lofn does a great of the actual logistical side of the organizing,” Frigga says. “But I still need to do a lot the planning and researching and decision-making. For instance, we were supposed to go on Monday to look at a venue. I don’t know if I’ll be up for it. I suppose with crutches—”

“You can’t hobble around country clubs on crutches,” Loki objects. “You’ll be miserable.” And then he says, “Let me plan it for you,” and Sif isn’t sure which of the room’s three occupants is the most surprised at his charitable offer.

“Would you truly, darling?” Frigga asks.

Loki hesitates, then shrugs. “For you, while you’re injured, I can do this,” he says, with the air of a man nobly stepping in front of a bullet to save a loved one.

Sif fights back a smile.

“Well . . . that would be wonderful, if you’re willing. But you don’t have a great deal of experience with these kinds of events; you always find excuses to avoid them. Will you know what needs to be done?”

“I can help him,” Sif hears herself volunteer.

Loki blinks at her, his face expressionless, while Frigga smiles. “Really?”

“Of course. And I go to these things all the time. I know what needs to be done for an event to be successful.”

“I didn’t mean to drag you into this—” Loki begins, but Sif just smiles.

“You aren’t. I’ve been thinking I want to get more into charity work. And I’d like to start up some similar programs at Vanaheim, so it’d be great to get some experience first, with an established event.” All of this is true. Equally true is that she rather likes the idea of being able to help Frigga, and also that she'd like to spend more time with Loki. She saw him in that restaurant this morning, uncomfortable and ready to bolt; he’s still uncertain about renewing their friendship, undoubtedly due to their fathers’ matchmaking attempts. If she wants to spend time with her old friend, she’ll need to employ a little subterfuge.

“Well, that would be perfect!” Frigga says. “I have no doubt that, between the two of you, you’ll do a far better job than I’ve ever done alone.”

Loki glances at Sif, and hesitates, and then turns to his mother. “All right,” he says, and Sif can’t read his tone.

Frigga smiles. “Your coming here today has turned out to be quite providential, Sif!”

“I think so,” Sif smiles.

“Now, if only they would finish up and discharge me so I could go home,” Frigga sighs.

“I can go drag the doctor in,” Loki says. “We donate a lot of money to this hospital; surely we—”

“It’s fine,” Frigga tells him gently. “No doubt there are other patients who also need his attention—patients in far more dire straits than me. Besides, practicing patience builds character.”

“I have plenty of character,” Loki grumbles, and Sif snorts. He looks over at her, surprised, but when he sees the amused look on her face, his expression softens. 

So does hers. He really is a handsome man, isn’t he?

Frigga watches this exchange, and then suddenly she speaks up. “I will say, though, I badly need a cup of tea.”

“Do they have tea here?” Loki asks.

“Not anything good,” says Frigga, and then perks up as though she’s just had an idea. “Come to think of it, my favorite tea shop is just around the corner. Do you suppose, Loki, that you could run over and buy me a cup of my favorite oolong? I think it would make me feel so much better.”

“I don’t want to leave you here alone—”

“I won’t be alone,” Frigga insists. “Sif can stay with me. And the shop is nearby; you shouldn’t be gone more than ten minutes.”

Loki hesitates, then, with a glance at Sif, who nods her agreement, he promises to be back soon and strides out into the hospital hallway.

“Was that your subtle way of getting rid of Loki?” Sif laughs.

Frigga’s sly grin answers that question. “I need you to tell me all about last night,” she says, directing Sif to a chair across from the examination table she’s currently sitting on. “Because I know I’m going to get nothing useful out of Loki or Odin.”

Well, that answers the question of how much Frigga knows about the purpose of last night’s dinner; Sif had supposed the woman would be aware, because she can’t imagine Odin taking such a huge step regarding one of their children without consulting his wife, but she hadn’t been certain.

From the light in Frigga’s eyes, Sif supposes the woman is in favor of the match (something that, she admits, fills her with no small amount of joy, because she’s always loved Frigga, and it looks like Frigga is quite fond of her as well). And she hates to do anything to dim the light in her eyes. But she’s not going to lie.

“It was . . . not great,” She admits.

“No! Why?”

Sif hesitates—she doesn’t want to badmouth Frigga’s husband—but then she figures that Frigga has always appreciated the truth. “I think,” she says carefully, “that Odin wasn’t completely forthcoming when he told us that Loki knew about and was okay with the purpose of last night’s dinner.”

Frigga closes her eyes and grimaces. “Loki was blindsided by it?”

“I think so, yes.”

“I told Odin to talk to him about it well ahead of time,” Frigga is quick to insist. And then she sighs, “Foolish of me to believe him when he assured me he would. So I assume Loki was not terribly cooperative?”

“He was quiet all evening. And when he got that message from Thor, he disappeared pretty quick.”

Frigga sighs. “My Loki has always had very strong opinions about . . . let’s call it, ‘taking the well-being of the Asgard Group into consideration when choosing a partner.’ And he’s been even less inclined to do so since he returned to us; learning the truth about his birth damaged his relationship with Odin quite a bit, I’m afraid.”

Loki’s relationship with Odin was damaged from day one, because of Odin’s clear favoritism of Thor—even to an outsider like Sif, that’s always been clear—but she doesn’t think this is the moment to bring that up. So instead she just says, “I remember that about him, from high school.”

Frigga sighs again, and then glances over at Sif with sparkling eyes. “But what about you, my dear? Your father says ‘Why don’t you marry Loki Odinson?’ and you willingly go along with it?”

Talking about this with the man in question’s mother is not something Sif wants to do . . . but on the other hand, this is the woman who was her mother in all but name from 13 to 18, and who has been like a doting aunt since then. So she admits, “I don’t hate the idea as much as Loki does. I know he sees it as some kind of barbaric forced marriage thing, but I’ve never felt that way.” She smiles. “Dating is hard. You’ve got to meet a guy, figure out if he’s single, flirt enough to get a date, and then endure a bunch of small talk to figure out if you should move forward: do you both want the same things out of a relationship? What’s his family like? What are his political and religious leanings? So, having family involved in finding blind dates for me . . .” She shrugs. “I have no problem letting him do a lot of that legwork, so I can focus on other things. It’s like hiring a matchmaker, right? My dad comes to me and says 'This guy is single and ready to settle down and we get along with his family and you two seem compatible.’ That’s far more efficient for me. And if I don’t like the guy, I don’t have to see him again.”

Frigga looks at her a long moment, a smile playing at her lips. “Still. Loki?”

“You think I shouldn’t go along with it because it’s Loki?”

“On the contrary,” says Frigga, “I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever heard. I would love nothing more than to have you as a daughter.”

Sif feels warmth rush through her. “Really?”

“Of course, dear. And I think you would be very good for Loki, and he for you.” Frigga hesitates. “You know, you have always reminded me of myself.”

Sif looks at Frigga—immaculately put together and elegant, even after a car accident—and can’t help the skepticism in her voice when she repeats, “Really?”

“I have always understood that being born into wealth was an accident: a twist of fate I had no control over. It’s not something I earned, or something that I deserve. So I have always approached the world with that in mind: my wealth does not make me better than anyone else. And I believe, from watching you all these years, that you feel the same.”

Pleased at the thought that Frigga understands her so well, Sif nods. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Loki could use that kind of philosophy in his life. He has always been a little too influenced by his position, his wealth . . . He’s a good man, but I’ve always worried what would happen if he wed someone who fed his more self-important tendencies. He needs someone like you, to rein him in.” She sighs. “Thor is even worse. I am quite seriously tempted to strip away all his access to his bank accounts and send him out to live on his own for a while. Try to teach him a little humility that way.”

“I would love to watch that,” Sif laughs.

Frigga smiles at her. “So believe me, I was very much in favor of the match, when Odin and I started discussing it. I’m just a little surprised that you went along with it. Given that you two have known each other for twenty years and never dated.”

Ah, here it is, the crux of the matter. “Well, like I said, I only agreed to spend time with Loki; I wasn’t telling my father to go buy a ring.”

“Still, if the meeting had gone well, you would have . . . kept meeting with him? With an eye toward becoming engaged?”

Sif shrugs uncomfortably. Frigga watches her a long few moments, then says kindly, “You needn’t answer, dear. But if you do, I can assure you that I will keep anything you say a secret.”

This is _such_ a bizarre conversation to be having with Loki’s mother. But on the other hand, if Sif’s own mother was alive, Sif would want to have this conversation with her. And because she’s not, Frigga is the next best option.

“This doesn’t leave this room?” she demands after a moment.

Frigga nods solemnly.

Sif fiddles with the frayed edge of one of the rips in her jeans. “Loki and I were never like that,” she says. “I thought he was cute in high school, but it just didn’t even cross my mind.” She hesitates. “To be honest, I always liked . . .”

“Thor,” Frigga finishes solemnly.

Sif stares at her, then laughs. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you know. Yeah, I liked Thor. I got over that in college, and then I left the country. I kept track of Thor and Loki through the news, and social media, and Thor’s e-mails, but I never really thought about either of them _that_ way. Then I got home.”

She shrugs uncomfortably. “My dad asked for permission to arrange a few meetings with suitable partners, and I agreed. And the first one he came up with was Loki, and I said ‘Loki will never go along with that, he hates this kind of thing,’ and my dad went away and called Odin, and then he came back and said ‘Loki’s fine with it, and he’s excited to see you.’”

Frigga raises her eyebrows.

Sif fights the urge to fidget; this conversation is the most vulnerable she’s let herself be since . . . well, since Haldor. “That hit me in a way I didn’t expect,” she confesses. “The possibility that Loki could be interested in me, or at least be open to the possibility of us as a couple . . . I thought about it. Obsessively. For a week. I Internet stalked him and saw everything he’s done since high school, and read every article ever written about him, and watched that TED Talk he gave about a thousand times. I asked all my old friends what they’d heard about him recently. And everything I heard and saw and thought made me realize . . . I could be really okay with this idea. I could see myself being happy with Loki. Falling for Loki. So I told my dad to set up the meeting.”

And then she grimaces and drops her face into her hands. “And now it turns out he never agreed to it and I was an idiot to even start down that path.”

“No,” Frigga says so firmly that Sif jumps and sits up straight. “You were not an idiot. And I’m sorry, but the idea of the two of you together is too wonderful to give up on that easily; you would be perfect for him, and I suspect he could be very good for you too.” She reaches out and grasps Sif’s hand. “Now that you’ve thought about it and realized you could want that, don’t you at least want to spend more time with Loki? See if that could ever happen?”

Sif does want that, to be honest. Because last night, slowly realizing over the course of the meal that Loki had not agreed to being set up with her . . . that left a sour taste in her mouth, far more than she had expected. And that made her realize that she's more invested in this idea than she'd admitted to herself. It made her realize that she might be a little taken with Loki.

“ . . . maybe,” she confesses.

“Excellent,” says Frigga, and a scheming look comes into her eyes and reminds Sif so much of Loki that she wants to laugh. “This fundraiser will give you plenty of opportunities to spend time with Loki, of course, but I think we can do even better than that. Inviting you and your father over for dinner is a bit too obvious; Loki will see through that. But the regatta, perhaps? And Thor will invite you to his birthday, of course. What about Njörðr and Skaði's anniversary party? I'm not sure if you remember Skaði, but once I tell her you're back in the country, I'm sure she'll be vastly happy to invite you along. And of course then you'll spend the evening with our group. Only fitting, with you being such a good friend of my boys.”

Sif can only stare in amusement and shock as Frigga conspires to get her to spend the entire summer with the Asgard family. “Nothing is decided,” she reminds her when Frigga stops to draw breath. “I'm not saying I'll decide to pursue Loki, no matter how many regattas we attend together.”

“Of course, dear, of course,” Frigga says airily. “I just want to make certain you two have a chance to spend time with each other. I don't want the entire possibility of a very excellent marriage to be thrown out the window, simply because Loki wants to defy his father.”

Sif falls silent, her mind whirling; the phrase “a very excellent mother” has caused an image to pop into her head, of her in a white dress and Loki in a tux, in a church in front of all their family and friends, and although she always knew this was the point of this arrangement with the Asgard family, somehow in this moment, with Frigga plotting to get them together, the possibility feels more real than it ever has. And that makes her feel . . . funny. In a good way. And a little bit in a scary way.

“What do you think, Sif?” Frigga's voice breaks into her thoughts, and Sif realizes that she was a million miles away for a moment.

“What does she think about what?” asks Loki, coming back into the room; apparently he made good time with the tea.

“Accompanying us to the regatta,” Frigga lies smoothly (Sif sees where Loki gets it). “She hasn't been in so many years, and I thought we ought to combine forces. Then you and Sif and Thor can have fun together and leave us stuffy old people to chat.”

“You're not stuffy or old, Mother,” Loki says loyally. And then he adds wryly, “Now, Father, on the other hand . . .”

“Behave,” Frigga laughs. “Now, Sif? What do you think?”

She's not only asking about the regatta, Sif knows. She's asking about this whole insane plan of hers to trick Sif and Loki to spend time together, in the hopes that he will overcome his distaste for business marriages long enough to marry her. It sounds crazy, when she puts it like that.

But then she looks over at Loki, who's watching her with his brow furrowed politely, waiting for her answer; it clearly hasn't occurred to him that this is a plot put into play by his mother.

He really is absurdly handsome, isn't he?

“Okay,” Sif hears herself say.

“Excellent,” Frigga says, pleased. “I'll make the arrangements.”

Anything else that might have been said on the subject is cut off when Thor bursts into the room. He is noisily relieved to learn that his mother is all right, and when he's ascertained that, he scoops Sif into a massive hug and scolds her at length for not telling him when she got back in the country. Loki says little throughout this reunion; he simply watches them with an expression Sif can't read.

Thor then hugs his mother, and gives her details about his accident last night. (Not his fault, he insists; it was a physics professor who was hurrying off to observe some natural phenomenon or other and ended up hitting him. That this professor is a pretty woman is quite obvious by the way Thor talks about her; Sif supposes he's the only person in the room who doesn't quite realize that he's talking about this Jane Foster far more than is necessary to tell the story of his accident. That's an interesting development.)

And then he apologizes to Loki; not only did he borrow his Taycan this morning, he apparently left it in a parking garage in another part of the city.

“What?” Loki demands. “Why?”

Thor is somehow deeply apologetic and not at all sorry, all at once. “I was so worried when I got your text about Mother. I completely forgot that I'd driven your car, so I just caught a cab.”

So now Loki will have to go get his car; Sif, who is seeing more and more that Loki's role in the family is to clean up other people's messes, volunteers to drive him there. It's decided that once he has his car, he can return to the hospital to drive his mother and brother home.

They bid Thor and Frigga goodbye (Frigga watching them with an expression too innocent to be trusted), and soon are making their way across the city.

“Thank you again for the ride,” Loki says for a moment. “For both rides. And I'm sure my mother appreciates your help with the fundraiser.”

 _And you_ _don't?_ she wants to ask, but she thinks she understands his reticence; to show any willingness to spend time with her will be playing right into Odin's hand, and Loki is basically incapable of cooperating with his father that easily. So she just says, “No problem.”

“So I suppose we'll be going to look at venues on Monday,” he observes. “I'll text you so we can work out the details, once my mother tells me where we need to go.”

“I'm excited about this,” Sif confesses. “Planning a big old party? Trying to get my dad's rich friends to crack open their wallets? Sounds like a challenge. And like we might have to sample a bunch of different desserts while we plan the menu.”

Loki snorts. “That's a cheerful way to look at it. I don't think my natural inclination is to be so positive about all this.”

“And that's why you've got me,” Sif laughs, before remembering that if their parents have their way, Loki _will_ have her. 'Til death do them part. She just agreed to let Frigga play matchmaker, and if it works, theoretically she could be engaged. Like, soon. She could be walking down the aisle. Like, soon.

Sif swallows hard.

But when she glances over at Loki's profile, she finds she can't quite bring herself to regret agreeing to it.

. . . . . .


End file.
